


a long december

by kenhwan



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, really emo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenhwan/pseuds/kenhwan
Summary: he thinks that if this torture was even half of how zitao felt, he understands.( previously titled: breezeblocks )





	a long december

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyesmiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesmiles/gifts).



> initially posted on november 29th 2017 as a drabble because i was uhh Not Doing Well and i wrote it while it was snowing and i was depressed during world history. not that this is much longer, but this is a much more complete and put together story that may or may not have a plotted companion piece sometime in the future instead of being fully introspection. being in love sucks. 
> 
> gifted to the 1 person that actually liked the original version of this ? whos works i love and live and breathe for thank u <3

yifan doesn't quite find the winter exciting anymore. not when the frostbitten buildings and plants freezing over just remind him of what he no longer has. he can only remember his other half's love for the holiday season, how it made him happy to see everyone being festive and how yifan couldn't tell if those were real authentic sparkles in his eyes or just reflections of the Christmas lights twinkling on the rooftops (he always found that he didn't quite mind the ambiguity).

there's nothing cheerful or thrilling about the way the cold bites harshly at his nose or the early arrival of dusk that makes the decorations all the more visible. he no longer pays mind to the smell of Christmas cookies wafting out of the bakery. the very same cookies and bakeries that used to make zitao's eyes light up (which was uncannily similar to the lights he loved to look at so much; but the sparkles the younger expressed would put even the brightest Christmas display to shame) and beg, plead for yifan to buy them for him. ("please gege, just this once, it smells so good, we haven't had pastries in ages!" and he would give in just like that). 

he doesn't even give a second glance at the red and green tree displays in his peripheral vision. they're blinding and glaringly nostalgic in their fixed display cases through the windows. he does everything he can to ignore his thoughts and memories of how zitao would chatter, coo, and scoff at the extravagant setups, commenting on which displays were cute; which displays were overly tacky or ugly; which neighbours were clearly trying to outdo each other that particular season. 

he thinks to himself not much more than an inner monologue about how miserable he is, and if this is how zitao had felt that fateful night he'd decided that he'd had enough of both the physical and mental pain. he thinks that if this torture was even half of how zitao felt, he understands. now, when yifan is truly alone, he knows how his little love felt trapped in the confines of his brain. 

it truly is hard to find solace in much of anything, but he knows that he must carry on for zitao's little brother, who, after the death of his parents and the suicide of his older brother, he must take care of. he owes it to the kid and himself to let them both find comfort in someone familiar and brotherly. to finally let down the walls and let up the tension to soak in kinship for even just a little while. 

he tells himself, as he walks through the snowy streets of qingdao, that when he gets home, he'll feel better. locked away in the dark comfort of zitao's truly top-class interior design skills and a room layout that hadn't been changed in the slightest since his passing. but as he turns the key and throws open the door to find the expectantly empty apartment, everything feels just as shitty, if not worse. 

the apartment, this time of year, would be flooded with the smells of pine, gingerbread, candy canes, and sugar cookies wafting to the doorway from different rooms. instead, his nostrils are only assaulted with the not-quite-as-alluring combination of stale coffee and laundry detergent. any year with zitao, instead of the darkness he was currently faced with, there would be tasteful icicle lights strung carefully along their entertainment centre and across the bar of their breakfast nook. 

he slowly, slowly makes his way over to the insulated coffee maker that's turned itself off on the timer yifan had it set on. the coffee inside is lukewarm at best and has long since turned into gross black sludge. he drinks it just like that, not bothering to warm it up or water it down or sweeten it at all. it wasn't for taste anyway, not for anything more than to keep him awake for the time being, since motivation was completely out of the question at this point in time. 

as he looks out across the apartment, it all floods back to him. the rosey pink zitao's nose would turn after they were out on a walk or after they went out to join in on the festivities ( always the younger's doing, yifan would much rather stay inside and watch movies and drink apple cider ) and the way the darkness around his eyes would turn an extra purpleblueblack. 

it's been a long long winter and yifan has been reassuring himself since october that the brighter, longer days will mean better times are to come. but he knows the truth, delusional as his claims make him out to be. with the sun will come plaguing ghosts of zitao's smile and his freshly bleached hair and his sun kissed skin, and the darkness he blames on the dreariness of winter will settle itself over another season.


End file.
